


Co-Parenting on the Sixes

by flaming_muse



Series: 24/7/365-'verse [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six-plus-one moments of co-parenting on the first sixes of Audrey’s life: six minutes, six hours, six days, six weeks, six months, six years, plus one more looking ahead.</p><p>futurefic, no specific spoilers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Co-Parenting on the Sixes

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: quick mentions of Finn and loss, some talk of homophobia and issues around the meaning of biological parenthood (as I am an adoptive parent in RL, you’d better believe it when I say you don’t need to be biologically related to be a parent, no matter what some characters might feel briefly in this fic)
> 
> A few people have asked me if I was planning to continue the “24/7/365”-’verse, and although I hadn’t expected to write more of it right now their comments got me to thinking about what co-parenting really looks like for Kurt and Blaine, how they talk to each other, how they support each other, what each of them finds hard and easy, how it all ties them together. This fic isn’t a full accounting of that topic - I mean, the arguments Audrey and Kurt get into would take up tens of thousands of words alone! - but I liked writing this snapshot view of the way this family grows together. It’s a story about how parenting doesn’t necessarily change who you are but does change how you look at and relate to the world around you, including your partner.

_six minutes_

Blaine is afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to _blink_ , because the sight in front of him is such a dream come true he’s terrified it’ll disappear in a flash if he looks away even for an instant.

“Oh, look at you,” Kurt says, smiling down at the tiny, red-faced baby wrapped in pale blue hospital blankets in his arms as the nurses bustle around them in the delivery room; Blaine is barely aware of them being there at all, though a few minutes ago he knew all of their names, their favorite types of music, and a bit of their personal stories. “You’ve had a big day, Audrey Elizabeth.” He turns his face toward Blaine but doesn’t actually look away from their daughter. Their _daughter_. “Blaine, she _yawned_.”

Blaine takes a quiet step forward to stand beside Kurt’s elbow, perfectly bent to cradle the baby’s head, and watches her blink her eyes sleepily. They’re the color of the sea and so very calm, like Audrey’s taking in the world she’s just been born into. Blaine has seen them before, has known them for years and years, has had them look right into his soul more times than he can remember. “She has your eyes,” he says in wonder.

Kurt makes a soft noise and tips his head toward her. He tucks the blankets around her a little more. “Aren’t all babies’ eyes blue?”

“Not just the color. They’re _yours_ ,” Blaine insists. Her eyes are Kurt’s, the tiny slope of her nose, the dusting of hair on her head, all of it is Kurt’s. Her features might be in miniature and a touch more rounded and unformed, but Blaine would know them anywhere. “She’s _your_ daughter.”

The thought of it takes his breath away, because he’d known she’d be biologically Kurt’s but hadn’t quite been prepared for what that would _mean_. He loves Kurt so _much_ , and now here is _more_ of him, a whole new person that’s half Kurt and half her own and wholly _magical_.

“Audrey is _our_ daughter, Blaine,” Kurt reminds him.

“Yes, but she’s _yours_.” More grateful than he can even understand to have this gift of more of this man he loves, Blaine slips his arm around Kurt’s slim waist with the same feeling of coming home the gesture always gives him and reaches out a hand he realizes is shaking to touch Audrey’s soft cheek. He rests his own cheek on Kurt’s ready shoulder and curls his other arm along Kurt’s so that they’re holding her together, this precious little girl, their daughter, and says with awe, barely able to get the words out around his heart lodged in his throat, “Look at her. She’s _perfect_.”

Kurt’s laugh is soft, and from this close Blaine can see the tears shining in his eyes before Kurt blinks them away. He leans into Blaine’s embrace and says, “Yes, she is.”

 

_six hours_

“Here you go, Dad,” the nurse says, placing the warm, surprisingly heavy blanketed burrito bundle that is Audrey into Kurt’s arms before leaving the three of them alone in the corner of the hospital nursery.

Kurt feels frozen for a second by the title, because that’s not him. That’s _his_ father, Burt Hummel, baseball caps and motor oil and sure, steady love, _that’s_ who dad is.

Except, clearly, this little girl he’s holding has changed everything he knows about the world, because dad is him now, too. And Blaine. It’s also _Blaine_. Blaine is that sure and steady support for someone else now, too, beyond just him.

“Dad,” he murmurs to himself, shaking his head.

Blaine laughs quietly, coming close in that new, careful way Kurt isn’t sure what to think of yet. “It’s going to take some getting used to,” he agrees.

Audrey makes a little sound and flutters her eyes open. They don’t fix on anything - Kurt knows she’s too little to be able to see very well - but Kurt still looks right into them, captivated by their brightness.

She’s so _real_. She’s so tiny but real, a whole new person. Their _daughter_ , no longer an idea or a heartbeat on a monitor but here. In his arms. Theirs forever.

It’s almost impossible to believe, and yet she’s right there in his arms, even more impossible to deny.

Audrey makes another little sound, squeaky and disgruntled, and she screws up her eyes in what looks like consternation.

Reminded of why they’re there, Kurt looks up at Blaine where he hovers at his elbow. “Do you want to feed her?” he asks.

Blaine takes a shallow breath, his eyes going a little wider, and he presses his lips flat and shakes his head. “I’ll do the next one.” He offers a smile when he says it, but Kurt can see the nerves flickering behind it.

“Okay.” Kurt’s always been better at taking leaps into the unknown than Blaine, so he holds Audrey carefully as he lowers himself into the comfortable chair in the corner. It’s awkward, and he’s afraid to jostle her too much, but all of those core exercises he does come in handy; he doesn’t wobble even a bit.

“Okay,” he says again and scoots her a little bit so that she’s resting more comfortably in the crook of his elbow. Well, he hopes it’s more comfortable for her; it’s definitely more comfortable for him, even if the warm weight of her there is new and disconcerting.

Audrey squeaks again, a little more loudly, and Kurt blinks back to the present. “Here, honey, let’s get you something to eat.”

Blaine hands him the bottle before Kurt asks for it; his eyes are still wide and a little shocked on them, but his hands are steady, at least, and that’s a relief to Kurt. He knows this is as big of a moment for Blaine as it is for him, uncharted territory for them both, and he’s glad to know he can count on his husband to be there at his side.

“Here we go.” Kurt pushes at the cap on the bottle with his thumb, trying to pop it off, and nothing happens. He pushes harder. Nothing. It hadn’t been this difficult to get off when he made the bottle and practiced it all at home, but then he had two hands free.

He can’t let go of Audrey, though, and he can just picture her slipping off of his lap onto the floor if he tries to use the hand holding her to help with the bottle. She’d slide right down the fine gabardine of his slacks like she was on the playground and land on his oxfords, and then she’d start crying, the nurse would grab her, and a judge walking by would declare them unfit parents, all before she was even seven hours old.

The same thing might happen, though, if he can’t figure out how to _feed her_.

Kurt starts to laugh, the emotion of the day catching up with him, and he rubs at his forehead with the back of his wrist, the bottle in his fingers.

“What?” Blaine asks, taking another hesitant step closer.

“I can’t get the cap off of the bottle,” Kurt tells him. “Also, remember all of those crazy stress dreams I’ve been having? Apparently I don’t need to be asleep to have them, anymore. I thought they were going to get _better_ once she got here.”

Blaine rubs his hand over Kurt’s shoulder before taking the bottle from him. “Well, I can’t do anything about the dreams, but I can help with this much.” He pops the cap off and hands the bottle back to Kurt.

“My hero.” Kurt beams up at him in gratitude, and Blaine’s smile lights up his face.

Audrey wiggles her tiny mittened hands inside her swaddling and lets out a cranky-sounding wail.

“Yes, yes, he’s your hero, too,” Kurt tells her and guides the nipple into her mouth. “I’ll share him. With you, at least.”

Blaine’s laugh is soft but happy, so happy. He curls his hand over Kurt’s shoulder in a tender touch and slowly crouches down beside the chair, his eyes rapt on Audrey’s face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out,” Kurt says to Audrey as she snuffles a bit and begins to drink. “This world is new to us, too, but we’ll all figure it out together.”

 

_six days_

“Carole, you really don’t have to do that,” Kurt says wearily from where he’s slumped on the couch. He’s going to get up and help her. He is. Any minute now.

“Don’t be silly,” she says as she fusses with the dishes in the sink. “If your father is going to hog the baby, cleaning up for you is the least I can do. I remember how hard it was back... back when Finn was born.” Her voice goes a little tight, but the smile on her face never wavers. “Let me help.”

“I’m not going to argue,” Kurt replies with a hollow but grateful laugh, aware of the tug of missing Finn deep in his chest - and missing his mother, as well, really - but too tired to do more than feel it, feel sad for himself, for Audrey, and for all of them for everyone gone who Audrey will never know. He’s sad for Carole that she’ll never get to know Finn’s child, too. She’ll be Audrey’s Grandma, but he knows it’s not the same.

That’s life, he thinks; the hard parts always seem to be intertwined with the good ones.

Across the room, his dad smiles down at Audrey in his arms with the same open wonder he’s had on his face for days and says, “Damn right I’m hogging her.” Kurt’s melancholy vanishes into the air, impossible to hold onto when his father looks like _that_.

Kurt definitely didn’t have Audrey for his dad and Carole. There’s no question about it. He and Blaine decided to have a child because they wanted a child. They had her for _them_ and for what they wanted their family to be.

But as he sits here and watches his father dote on this baby, his face lit up with a gentle joy Kurt could only have imagined, and his stepmother hover around looking for an opportunity to scoop her up and do some doting of her own, he can’t help but feel deeply satisfied that their personal choice brought such happiness for his parents, too.

Audrey’s birth has expanded his family with Blaine in more ways than one. It’s bringing all of them to a new, wonderful place together, at least that’s what it feels like. It could be the new baby delirium talking, Kurt knows.

There’s the soft shuffle of footsteps in the hall, and then Blaine appears, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t realize the time,” he says around a jaw-cracking yawn.

“You could have kept napping, honey,” Carole tells him, her hands working in the soapy water. “We’ve got this.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to miss anything.” Blaine yawns again and lowers himself down beside Kurt, fitting against his side like he’s a puzzle piece slotting into place. Kurt’s always liked Blaine when he’s sleepy; he’s looser and less tense, softer, a bit less conscious of how other people see him. He’s also an excellent cuddler, and Kurt takes advantage of that now by shifting his arm so that Blaine can ease in closer like water filling a void.

“She’s six days old, kid,” Burt says. “Nothing much happening besides some yawning, some crying, and the occasional diaper change.”

“The next diaper change is mine!” Carole calls out, and Kurt’s dad sets his jaw like he wants to argue but ultimately nods his acknowledgement.

“I love it when she yawns,” Blaine says a little sadly and tips his head against Kurt’s shoulder. He watches Audrey with heavy-lidded eyes.

Kurt smooths his hand down Blaine’s thigh and says, “She’ll do it again soon. Don’t worry. You won’t miss out.”

Blaine nods and rubs his cheek against Kurt’s shoulder in an affectionate gesture Kurt finds he doesn’t mind, even though it’s not the sort of thing they’ve done much in front of his parents over the years. Not that Kurt thinks they care; he knows they want him to be happy. He and Blaine just don’t usually express themselves that way with an audience.

But it’s a little different now. It’s only been days, but he and Blaine are growing somehow closer, invisible threads weaving them even more tightly together, even though Kurt hadn’t known it was possible. It feels right to be close, to be sweet to each other, and it doesn’t matter that there are other people around. It’s their apartment, after all. If they want to touch, they are going to touch. And Kurt wants to.

Besides, his dad and Carole are there to watch their family grow, not just to visit them as a couple, and the focus is shifting to Kurt and Blaine in charge, caring for their daughter, setting the schedules and the boundaries. _They_ have to come first now in their life. His parents are the ones who have to adjust, if adjustments need to be made. Audrey comes first.

It’s a good thing, but it’s different. Kurt feels like he’s aged years in this past week with all of this new responsibility on his shoulders, but it’s not in a bad way.

Audrey makes a creaky little squeak and squirms in her grandfather’s arms.

“She’s waking up,” Kurt says. He takes a deep breath and readies himself to get up from the couch. “She’ll need a - “

“I called the next diaper change,” Carole says. “You sit.”

“You’re busy,” he replies. “I can - “

“Sit,” Blaine tells him, curling his hand around Kurt’s elbow. It’s not a tight grip, but there’s something so certain about it that it anchors him there. “She’s fine. They’ve got her. It’s okay.”

It takes a moment for him to overcome the internal struggle between wanting to trust Blaine and knowing Audrey is his to care for, but Kurt makes himself listen. He stays where he is as Carole wipes off her hands and hurries over to pluck the baby from Burt’s arms with what sounds an awful lot like a cry of triumph.

“You’re mine now, you sweet baby girl,” she says and carries her off toward the nursery.

“I should get her bottle,” Kurt says, but if anything he sinks further into the cushions and against Blaine’s side. He knows what he’s supposed to be doing, but Blaine is so _comfortable_ , all nap-warmed and safe in this crazy new world they’re living in.

Kurt’s dad shakes his head and says, “Nah, I’ll do. I’m sure I can remember how to warm some formula,” he says and heads into their little kitchen. “Just like riding a bicycle.”

“Not too warm,” Kurt calls over his shoulder to him.

“He’s got it, Kurt,” Blaine says and gently tugs him back down to rest.

Kurt tells himself to accept the help. It isn’t that they think he and Blaine can’t do it on their own, he knows; it’s that they think he and Blaine shouldn’t have to. That’s a _good_ thing. That’s nice. He’s sure he’ll miss them when they’ve gone, even if he feels a bit possessive now. He’s happy not to have to get up and do everything for her, but surely he should be allowed to do _some_ of it.

“I’m not sure I’ve held her all day,” he mutters with a shake of his head. “Do you think they’re going to try to take her home with them?”

Blaine laughs in reply. “Probably not. I think we’re safe. They’re just happy to be grandparents. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” Kurt agrees, because it _is_. He lets himself bask in it for a moment, this whole new family structure they’ve created. They’re fathers. Their parents are grandparents. Their family has changed in fundamental and wonderful ways. Still... “We should search their suitcases when they leave, just in case.”

Rubbing his hand along Kurt’s arm, Blaine kisses Kurt’s shoulder before settling down against him again. Kurt hears his dad clattering around in the kitchen and the sound of Carole singing drifting down the hallway. There are burp cloths, pacifiers, and receiving blankets on the coffee table inside what used to be their fabulous minimalist decorative bowl. The mail is piled on the bookshelf instead of sorted and recycled. His shoes are still sitting by the front door where he kicked them off... when was that, yesterday morning?

None of this is how things were even a week ago. Everything’s upside-down and in disarray. It doesn’t seem like their apartment at all, really, except for Blaine by his side, familiar and strong. Blaine is still the same. Blaine is his constant in this changing world.

Kurt puts his hand over Blaine’s on his arm, closes his eyes against the clutter, and holds on.

“I wasn’t sure when I woke up from my nap if this was all real,” Blaine says with a stifled yawn. “I just can’t believe she’s ours and we get to keep her, you know?” 

But that’s the flip side, of course, Kurt thinks. It’s all different, and so much of his home life feels so foreign to him, but the reason for it is _wonderful_. Audrey is magical. She’s exquisite. And she’s theirs.

Kurt laughs and rests his tired head against Blaine’s. “I know,” he says softly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

 

_six weeks_

Blaine rocks on his feet in Audrey’s room, back and forth, back and forth, twisting at the waist and shifting his weight from one aching foot to another because he’s worried he’ll stumble again on her rug if he paces like he has been much of the night, and bounces her in his arms. “Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhh,” he says, just the way the book told him: rocking, bouncing, twisting, and hushing all at once are supposedly waking baby kryptonite. If he does it right, the book says, she’ll be out like a light in no time.

Audrey just keeps crying, her mouth so wide it looks like a cartoon, her face red, and her eyes running with rivers of tears. He rubs her back, so hot through her onesie from all of her exertion; he knows just how she feels, since he’s sweating from all of the walking and rocking and is pretty close to bursting into tears, himself.

Clearly he isn’t doing it right.

“Shhh. Shhhh. Shhhhhhh,” he says a little desperately, because she needs to sleep, he needs to sleep, _Kurt_ needs to sleep, they all need to sleep. Blaine’s been doing so much sleep research in the little slivers of time he really ought to be using for things like napping, showering, or any sort of cleaning of their apartment, and he is sure this should work. This should be the perfect solution to all of their sleeping problems. Audrey will fall asleep, Blaine will be able to go back to bed, and Kurt - perfect, strong, amazing, talented Kurt - will be so impressed by everything Blaine can do as a parent.

“Shhhh, Audrey, shhhh,” he says, sing-songing a little the way the book assures him he is _not_ supposed to, because singing in the middle of the night is a reward or a distraction or something else bad he can’t really remember with Audrey shrieking into his ear and pushing out all other thoughts. “Come on, honey, shhhhh.”

She doesn’t quiet. If anything, she screams louder, and Blaine would gladly give everything he owns and/or a limb or two if she would just _settle_. She’s not hungry, she’s not cold, and she’s not wet. There’s nothing wrong. She just won’t settle, she won’t sleep, all she will do is wail, and there’s apparently nothing he can do to help, not a thing in the world.

A touch on his elbow startles Blaine out of his twist-bounce-rock rhythm, and Kurt steadies him as he stumbles with a hand on his arm. “Let me,” Kurt says. His hair is sticking up in odd directions, his eyes are shadowed and tired, his voice is rough from fatigue, and he’s still the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen. He just wishes he weren’t seeing him.

“You have work tomorrow,” Blaine says, rubbing circles on Audrey’s back in the vain hope that somehow she’ll finally just be _okay_.

“And you’ll have her all day,” Kurt says. He gently lifts Audrey out of Blaine’s tired arms, and Blaine reels a little without her there, ungrounded without her weight.

And of course, like always, like every single night of her life so far, Audrey buries her face against Kurt’s chest when he settles her there, and she stops crying for just a second or two before starting up again. It’s not like the problem is solved in an instant, but there’s still that second, and Blaine knows that without a question he failed.

It was his job to take care of Audrey, and he _failed_.

“Go to bed,” Kurt tells him, so kindly, rocking their daughter in his arms, and Blaine leaves his heart on the floor and walks out.

He doesn’t go to bed, though. He can’t. He walks on numb feet to the couch and sinks down onto it, his head in his hands, and feels utterly and completely shredded.

It’s been an exhausting hour in Audrey’s room, the third time he’s been up tonight taking care of her. It’s hard having to be the one to get up each time so that Kurt can have had enough sleep this first week back at work to find his place there again, and he’s shaking with fatigue, but that’s not what’s hurting so much.

It’s that Kurt’s so much better at this. Audrey likes him better. Audrey quiets for him, she burps for him, she eats for him, and although Blaine _can_ get her to do all of those things, it’s so much harder. She protests and squirms, kicks her tiny, perfect little feet, and squeezes her beautiful eyes shut in dismay. She spits out the pacifier, refuses the bottle the first two times he puts it to her mouth, and like tonight just won’t settle back into sleep when he comes in to care for her. She just... does it all for Kurt for a few murmured words and a kiss to her forehead, and for Blaine it’s a fight.

And Blaine’s going to be alone with her all day tomorrow while Kurt’s at work, and the day after that, and the day after that, three days a week for a month, and then four days for a while, and then Kurt will be back at work full-time, because he’s a genius and everyone loves him, and Blaine will be alone day after day with a baby who _knows_ he isn’t her father.

She’s _Kurt’s_. She lights up at his voice. She calms at his touch. She even gave him her first smile this week. Biology doesn’t lie.

Blaine doesn’t know why he ever thought this was a good idea. Having a baby, him staying home with her... He loves her to pieces, he wants to give her everything, but she loves _Kurt_.

He turns his head toward her room, not at all surprised that she’s already quiet in there, falling asleep to the low singing Blaine can just barely hear.

His head falling forward into his hands again, he wonders why he ever thought he could do this. Clearly, he can’t. He’s letting Kurt down. He’s letting Audrey down. And he can’t fix it.

Blaine is still slumped on the couch in the semi-darkness, only the light over the stove from the kitchen illuminating the living room, when he hears her door click shut and Kurt pad down the hallway toward their bedroom. Blaine doesn’t call out to him, because he doesn’t want to wake Audrey, but he also doesn’t want to stop Kurt from getting more sleep. He will need as much as he can to make it through his work day. Blaine doesn’t want to get in his way.

He’ll just sit here until Audrey cries again, let Kurt have the whole bed. If he can, maybe he’ll doze a little on the couch, once he stops feeling like he’s going to throw up from failure.

Oh, god, he’s the worst parent in the world.

A minute or two later, though, Kurt’s there in front him. “Blaine?” he says softly, sitting down on the coffee table beyond Blaine’s knees, and Blaine knows just how Audrey feels to see Kurt come into the room, because something in Kurt’s gentle voice makes the tight knot of despair in him uncurl just a little. It makes him feel weak and guilty, but it helps all the same. “Come to bed.”

“In a minute,” Blaine says, squeezing his eyes shut against everything that wants to flood out of him. “You go.”

Kurt gets up, but instead of heading to bed he sinks down beside Blaine on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Blaine says. He makes himself lift his head up from his hands and look over at Kurt instead of falling into his arms the way a part of him wants to, only it’s not up to Kurt to solve his problems. “Aud’s asleep now. Everything’s fine.”

Kurt runs his hand up and down Blaine’s back. “Blaine,” he says steadily, watching his face.

Blaine shakes his head and then rubs his hand over his face. He’s so _tired_. He feels like parts of him keep falling asleep: his legs don’t want to move, and his cheeks are all but unresponsive. He’s too tired to keep back all of the words he’s been holding inside for weeks, not when he knows Kurt will wait forever until he gives him an answer. “You’re so much better at this than I am,” he says. “Being a father.”

“What?” Kurt draws back in surprise, his eyes going wide.

“You are.” Blaine gestures toward her bedroom. “Look. She’s asleep.”

“Because she was worn out from crying her eyes out for an hour,” Kurt says. “You helped her through that. I just helped her break the cycle.”

Blaine shakes his head, his hands falling into his lap, as useless as the rest of him. “She was crying for an hour, and it didn’t help. I didn’t do anything. That’s my point. I held her until her father got there.”

Kurt jerks again at Blaine’s words. His brow furrows; his jaw sets. “You’re her father,” he says softly, firmly.

“You’re the one she wants,” Blaine says. All he can taste is bitterness and failure. “You’re the one who can get her to sleep. She knows you’re her father.”

“You’re her father, too.”

“Not in the same way. You’re her _father_. You know what I mean.”

“DNA doesn’t matter. You were there for her tonight, just like you have been every night and every day since she was born,” Kurt says and pulls him in against his side, the sudden contact jarring a soft exhalation out of Blaine at how good it feels to be near him, to be able to lean on him. “That’s what parenting is.”

“I just can’t give her what she needs.” Blaine’s voice breaks a little. He can’t help it. He never thought he’d be _bad_ at this. He never thought his own daughter would think he was a terrible parent.

“Blaine...” Kurt curls into him, resting his temple against Blaine’s. He sounds so tired, and more guilt rises in Blaine, because Kurt’s taken care of Audrey and now him tonight, and isn’t Blaine supposed to be the one taking care of the family? Isn’t that his _job_ now? Isn’t that the whole point of him taking this year off? “Children this age respond better to women’s voices than men’s. Haven’t you read about that?”

“I probably did, but we’re both men,” Blaine says, because even if he hasn’t seen Kurt’s dick up close and personal in weeks, he’s pretty sure it hasn’t disappeared. His own is still there, too.

Kurt laughs, light and bemused. “ _Blaine_.” He pulls back enough to gesture to his own throat. “Have you forgotten that one of us has a high F and is frequently called _Mrs._ Anderson-Hummel by telemarketers on the phone and even once by your own brother?”

Blaine blinks and then feels his brain actually shift in his head, the thought strikes him so hard. He doesn’t really think about what Kurt sounds like most of the time, other than that he’s _Kurt_ and so his voice is one of Blaine’s favorite sounds in the world, but he can see how when Kurt talks extra soft and high to Audrey - the same way everyone does, like humans are wired that way - and when he sings lullabys at the top of his range instead of the bottom he must sound more feminine than Blaine does.

Not that Kurt _is_ female in any way, but Audrey’s too young to understand gender normativity and stereotyping. She simply is responding to his voice. They’ll explain the rest to her later.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Blaine says in some shock, a small bubble of hope growing in the dark vacuum of despair that was filling his chest.

Kurt rubs his hand down Blaine’s back again. “She doesn’t like me better, Blaine,” he says. “She just likes my voice. We can’t get mad at her for having excellent taste.”

That surprises a laugh out of Blaine, and he presses his temple gratefully against Kurt’s jaw and then puts his lips there instead, kissing Kurt’s cheek and when Kurt turns his head his mouth, too. It’s just a soft kiss, barely more than a breath, but it’s warm and familiar and _Kurt_ , and it makes Blaine feel more settled than he has in _weeks_.

It’s not him. It’s not Kurt. It’s biology, but not in the way he was thinking.

It’s _okay_.

It’s still a monumental challenge to overcome, but it’s okay.

When he pulls back, Blaine can see the concern and affection in Kurt’s eyes, and it’s enough for him to be able to let out the words he’s been so scared to say since Audrey was born. He feels like he’s being disloyal, in a way, because he loves Audrey so much it scares him, and they planned for her and wanted her so fervently, but it’s still so very true. “This is really hard.”

Kurt’s face pinches around the edges, everything going tight, and he gives a sharp nod, not looking away. “It really is.”

They look at each other for a long moment in grave acknowledgement, and it feels to Blaine like so much of what he feels is mirrored in Kurt’s eyes. Kurt sees him. Kurt understands him. Kurt gets it, too. It sounds like it should be easy, but taking care of Audrey is the most difficult thing Blaine has ever done, a thousand times harder than he could have imagined, taking every last bit of himself and then some to get through it. The relentlessness of it, the unpredictability, the countless ways to get things wrong every day. Sometimes it’s so much that it feels impossible.

And somehow Kurt gets it. It isn’t just Blaine. Blaine hasn’t failed; it simply is what it is.

Blaine cups Kurt’s face in his hands, feels the prickle of stubble against his palms and the unexpected dryness of the skin beneath, less cared for than it ever has been in the many years Blaine has known him, and kisses him again, a little longer, a little more seriously in gratitude for everything they are to each other. “I’m not sorry,” he promises.

Kurt’s mouth quirks up into a tired smile. “Neither am I.”

“And they say it’ll get easier as she gets older and gets onto a real schedule.”

“Sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”

“That and you,” Blaine agrees with feeling. “You’re keeping me sane, Kurt. Thank you.”

Smiling back, Kurt takes Blaine’s hand in his and tugs on it. “We should sleep while she is. You know she’ll be up in another hour or two.”

Blaine wants to groan and slide off of the couch right onto the rug, but he manages not to give in to the urge. He’s not sure he has the energy to get himself back up again. “Is it wrong that I don’t even want to try to convince you to do something else with me in bed before we fall asleep?” he asks.

Standing up, Kurt sighs and says, “Yes. That’s definitely wrong. But right now we both need the sleep more.”

“Yeah.” The room spins and sways as Blaine stands up, and he gratefully keeps hold of Kurt’s hand as they skirt the coffee table and head toward their bedroom. “That’ll get easier, too.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s ass as he holds the door for him, the touch soft but possessive. “It’d better.”

Blaine smiles at him over his shoulder and collapses gratefully face-first onto his side of mattress, barely pulling the covers up before he closes his eyes.

After a moment of fussing with the blankets, Kurt curls around him, and Blaine shivers with bone-deep pleasure. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he says, sinking back against Kurt’s warm, strong body, so good at taking care of him and their daughter, so good at being there, Blaine’s safest port in the storm that is his life.

“Mmm,” Kurt agrees with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn against Blaine’s shoulder. “Told you these sheets were worth it for the thread count.”

Blaine just pulls Kurt’s arm more tightly around his waist; that wasn’t what he meant at all, but he doesn’t have it in him to argue.

Tomorrow is still going to be awful, he knows. He’s still going to have a harder time with Audrey than he has these past weeks with Kurt home to step in and share the responsibilities. He’s still not going to be the person she wants to soothe her, to bathe her, to sing to her.

He’s still going to spend the day tired, alone, and, if he can admit it to himself in the quiet depths of his mind, scared.

But he thinks as he swiftly descends toward sleep with his husband in his arms and his daughter snuffling through the monitor, this is his family. Audrey is his daughter.

He may not be the best father in the world or even in the apartment, but he’s going to figure it out.

 

_six months_

Kurt hums to himself as he pulls a dark tie from his closet, knotting it quickly at his throat. He glances at himself in the mirror, twisting to the side to check his reflection. Dark pants, pale, patterned shirt, slim tie... It’s not his best outfit, but it’s fine. He looks good. He’s on trend. That diva-in-training Natalie at the office wishes she could look this put together even on her best day.

He frowns a little, though, because he doesn’t want to be _on_ trend as much as _setting_ them, and he mourns for a moment that he doesn’t have the time this morning to reinvent himself or go through his accessories drawer for the perfect item to twist the outfit into something truly exceptional from the mundanely perfect.

He glances down at the drawer with a pang in his heart, thinking of all of the exquisite items inside... but he doesn’t have the time. He just doesn’t.

Besides, since Audrey started chewing on his pins he’s been embracing a minimalist aesthetic. It started as self-defense, but it’s working for him. He shouldn’t let his vanity and a longing for favorite old accessories ruin his look.

Scooping up the bag holding the items that need to go to the dry cleaners - a much smaller bundle than it used to be before Audrey, since Blaine seems to live in jeans, t-shirts, and sweatpants these days, all very washable - Kurt heads into the living room.

There he finds Blaine and Audrey lying on their stomachs on the rug, facing each other with a pile of soft toys between them.

“See?” Blaine says, shaking one jingling toy and then another. “They’re different pitches.” He demonstrates again. “Low. High.”

Audrey squeals and kicks her feet, grabbing for the stuffed elephant in Blaine’s left hand. Blaine lets her have it, waiting until she has a good hold of its trunk before letting go. He brushes his fingers across her head in a gentle caress, pushing her little curls back away from her forehead.

Kurt leans his hip against the back of the couch and smiles at them, a sudden rush of contentment pulsing out in warm waves through his chest. Blaine is always so careful with her, so patient, so enthusiastic over every little thing, like she’s a wonder of the world instead of a needy baby, and as much as Kurt can miss the freedom of their life before she was born there’s something about seeing Blaine with their daughter that makes Kurt love him that much more.

He’d always known Blaine was exceptional and had a huge heart, but there’s a difference between having it focused on him and seeing it in action in their _family_. He can’t believe how much Blaine gives him, not just to him personally but to their daughter, to their _life_.

“Ready for work?” Blaine asks, twisting a little so that he can see him. He gives Kurt an easy smile as his eyes scan him from his hair to his shoes. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” Kurt replies. “You do, too.”

Blaine laughs self-consciously, wiggling his bare toes and smoothing down the hem of his white t-shirt. He’s rumpled and curly-haired, the line of his jaw accentuated by the dark scruff of whiskers he hasn’t shaved that morning. There’s nothing polished about him, nothing put together, and yet he’s endlessly appealing. “Oh, yes, _GQ_ is coming today to shoot me in this outfit.”

Kurt drops his bag on the couch and comes over to sit beside him on the floor. “Maybe _Better Homes and Husbands_ ,” he says, leaning in to give Blaine a soft kiss of appreciation.

Blaine tips his face up to meet him, his mouth curled in a smile, but he breaks off the kiss far too soon with a choked noise of surprise, the hand that had been cupping Kurt’s jaw flying up to the top of his own head. “Ow.”

“Hey, hey, Aud,” Kurt says, reaching to untangle Audrey’s small but very strong fingers from Blaine’s hair. “Come on, sweetheart, I happen to like his hair, and I’d like it to stay on his head, please.” He’s able to get her fingers loose and put a new toy in her hands with a minimum of fuss, and Blaine rolls onto his back out of her reach.

“Thank you,” he says, and he looks so relaxed and happy there on the floor, loose-limbed and open, his shirt rucked up and his skin so golden in the morning light, ready to be touched, that Kurt is struck by the intense urge to kiss him again.

He doesn’t, though, because he knows if he does he isn’t going to want to stop until he’s as close to that tempting smile and even more tempting skin as he can possibly get, wrapped up in the private ease of this man he loves, and Audrey is _right there_.

So he can’t. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting.

Maybe he should call Rachel today and see if she’ll babysit for them soon, he thinks. She’s been angling to get her hands on her goddaughter, after all, and he’s fairly certain that she’ll listen well enough not to do Audrey any lasting harm. And then he and Blaine could have a night together. Dinner, maybe a play, and _time alone_. The thought goes right to his head like a glass of champagne on an empty stomach, making him dizzy and eager all at once. The room and his mind spin as he thinks of how wonderful it would be to have all of Blaine’s attention on him for a change.

“You okay?” Blaine asks, reaching out to touch a hand to Kurt’s knee.

“Just fine,” Kurt assures him. He clears his throat and pulls himself back to the present; he has about five minutes before he needs to be out the door, and he wants to spend it right here, not in his fantasies. He can fantasize on his own time. “What are you up to today?”

“We have Daddy and Me music and dance time today,” Blaine says, glancing over at Audrey with a smile. He jingles the stuffed fuzzy block at her. “Don’t we, honey?”

It’s actually a ‘Mommy and Me’ class, and Kurt doesn’t know how Blaine survives it. Kurt loves his female friends, but the Stepford Moms in the class swarm all over Blaine like he’s their token gay, admiring his kid-friendly bow ties and his boy band dance moves. They giggle and simper to the point that Kurt’s jaw starts to clench just thinking about them. He’s glad Blaine has found adults to talk to, but _those_ adults? “Better you than me,” he says.

“They aren’t that bad,” Blaine says with a laugh.

“I’m sure they have some redeeming qualities if you like them.” Kurt leans over Blaine to scoop up Audrey, who wiggles and squeals as he plops her onto his lap. “But why,” he asks as his body relaxes with the solid weight of his daughter against him in a reaction he still doesn’t quite understand, “do they always wear yoga pants?”

Blaine laughs again and sits up, drawing his knees up and walking a stuffed green dinosaur across the floor toward Audrey. “You wear yoga pants.”

“When I’m doing yoga,” Kurt insists.

“Or when you want my attention,” Blaine says, glancing up at him with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Well...” Kurt straightens Audrey’s little yellow hoodie so that he doesn’t have to face Blaine’s knowing look. It’s true, after all. He knows Blaine can’t resist him in those clinging pants; they make his legs look a mile long and his ass look incredible. He skirts the topic. “Do you think _they_ want your attention? You know I’ve never liked how Jenny looks at you.”

Blaine laughs again and wiggles the dinosaur at Audrey, who lunges forward toward it and is kept from falling right onto her face by Kurt’s arm around her. “Anyway, we have that, and then after the class we might go for a little walk in the park if Aud is up for it.”

“That would be nice,” Kurt says, getting her back upright and kissing her on the top of her head. Her hair is so soft and fine against his lips, and he lingers there for a moment. “It’s supposed to be a beautiful day.”

“Yeah, it just depends on how overstimulated she is. Some of the moms might also go out for coffee.”

“You should go with them,” Kurt urges him. It’s one of his greatest sources of guilt, the fact that he gets to go to work every day and do what he loves while Blaine is home with Audrey; it’s also a source of envy, because Blaine sees so much more of her than he does, but he wants Blaine to feel happy, supported, and surrounded by friends, not stifled and lonely with only their daughter for company. Blaine doesn’t seem to mind, but Kurt sometimes wonders if that’s Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Blaine shrugs one shoulder, looking unconvinced. “We’ll see. The music gets her pretty worked up, and I don’t want to ruin her nap. She’ll be off all day.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “I get it. But you deserve time with grown-ups. Even if they’re yoga moms with secret crushes on you.”

With a fond roll of his eyes at Kurt, Blaine pokes Audrey in the tummy with the dinosaur, getting another squeal and lunge toward him. “We’ll see how we’re feeling, right, Aud?”

“Okay.” Kurt picks Audrey up, hugging her close to his chest for a soul-satisfying second or two before depositing her in front of her pile of toys. “You be good, honey,” he tells her.

“She always is,” Blaine replies.

“Be _easy_ , then,” Kurt says to Audrey. He studies Blaine for a moment, judging the dark circles under his eyes and the quality of his smile, and is pleased to see that he looks pretty good. Tired, disheveled, and the rest, but he doesn’t seem fragile beneath it all the way he used to, like he was holding himself together by willpower alone some days. Blaine gives and gives and gives to his family, so much that for a while it seemed like he had nothing left. Not that Kurt had been any better.

It’s wonderful to see him looking so centered, though, like a balm to Kurt’s heart, a firmer bit of ground beneath his feet. He doesn’t have to worry too much. He’s okay. They’re both okay.

Plus, Blaine’s so much more handsome, so much more _Blaine_ when his eyes are sparkling and his laughter comes quickly.

“What?” Blaine asks, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Nothing,” Kurt says easily. “Maybe I like looking at you.”

Blaine’s eyebrows go even higher, this time in amusement. “Only maybe?” he teases.

Kurt’s phone trills in his pocket, his alarm for leaving going off too soon as it always does. He hates that noise, hates that his time isn’t entirely his own, hates that the alarm tells him he can’t stay in the glow of his family when he wants to. On the other hand, it also keeps him from being late, so...

With a sigh, he silences it and pushes himself up off the floor, dusting off a few errant fuzzies from his slacks and making sure his shirt is tucked in properly.

“You look great,” Blaine assures him again, coming up beside him with Audrey in his arms.

“You do, too.” Kurt smiles at them both and lets Blaine draw him into a hug, not as tight as he might like with the baby between them but all the warmer for it being the three of them. Kurt kisses Audrey’s little head and strokes his fingers down Blaine’s whisker-rough cheek before kissing him, too, firm and determined, a thrill going through him as Blaine’s mouth opens on a soft inhalation and his hand tightens on Kurt’s back.

Yes, Kurt thinks, he really needs to see about Rachel babysitting for them. And while he’s at it, he should nudge Sam, too, to encourage him to go out with Blaine to a movie or something one of these nights soon.

They all deserve to do things for themselves.

Audrey’s changed their life in so many ways he can’t even count them, but she hasn’t actually stopped it. She’s just added to everything they already had.

 

_six years_

“Here you go,” Blaine says, putting Audrey’s bowl of cereal on her laminated placemat - of Broadway legends, a gift from Aunt Rachel - on the kitchen table. “Aud?”

She glances up from where she’s rearranging the magnet letters on the refrigerator into words - currently ‘star’, ‘lead’, and ‘solo’, and Blaine wonders if they need to have another talk with Rachel or if this is just coming from Kurt - and looks surprised for a moment, like she’s forgotten that it’s time for breakfast even though she was asking for food just two minutes ago, and then she bounces across the room and climbs into her chair. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says, smoothing his hand over her hair before turning toward the coffee maker and its promise of a final kickstart for him to full wakefulness.

“Here _you_ go,” Kurt says and offers him a mug of coffee.

Blaine leans in for a kiss, smiling against Kurt’s soft mouth. “Thank you.” He wraps his hands around the mug.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt says, smiling warmly back, looking beautiful in his work clothes but at ease and somehow so touchable and present standing there in his bare feet, and Blaine is about to kiss him again, just because, when Audrey speaks up.

“Why are you and Daddy both boys?” she asks around a mouthful of cereal.

Blaine’s close enough to Kurt that he can see his smile freeze, but otherwise neither of them reacts outwardly. They’ve been waiting for years for Audrey to come to them with this topic. They’ve read her books, they’ve talked about families of all kinds, and maybe now’s the time for the bigger conversation. Or maybe not; they’ve had false alarms before.

“What do you mean, honey?” Blaine asks, turning around but staying close to Kurt for moral support.

“Why are you both boys?” Audrey waves her spoon at them. “Most of my friends have a boy and a girl for parents. And Lindsey has two girl moms.”

Blaine glances over at Kurt, who meets his eyes as he puts his mug down on the counter. This is no false alarm. Kurt nods at him, subtle but reassuring, and Blaine nods back. This is going to be hard, but they can do it. At least they’re together. Blaine has had a series of recurring nightmares of Audrey asking him about sex for the first time when it’s the two of them on the crowded subway.

“Well,” Kurt starts, “you know families are made in lots of ways. Some have two daddies, some have two mommies, and some have one or more of each. Sometimes families aren’t born as families but become that way.”

“I _know_ that,” Audrey tells him, bored and petulant in a way Blaine had thought only teenagers could be but apparently starts much earlier.

“Daddy and I fell in love a long time ago - “ Blaine says.

“Not _that_ long,” Kurt mutters. “You make it sound like we’re ancient.”

Blaine hushes him with a nudge of his elbow against Kurt’s. “ - and we decided to get married, because we wanted to be together forever.”

Audrey nods and takes another bite of her cereal. “I don’t like that you’re both boys. It makes me sad.”

Kurt sucks in a sharp breath, and Blaine looks over at him with a tangible pain in his chest. They’d talked about this possibility before. They know how great the pressures are on a child to conform, how hard it is to be different. They know the kinds of looks they get walking down the street even now; though no one seems angry about their family, they definitely are _visible_. Different. Audrey’s a smart little girl. She has to notice.

“Aud,” Blaine says, walking over to crouch down beside her chair and trying not to betray how much it hurts him that she’s feeling that way about their special, wonderful family. “What’s going on? Are your friends saying things about us?”

“No,” she replies. “Not really.”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Kurt tells her. He hasn’t moved from the counter, and he seems to be frozen in his relaxed pose, his eyes fixed on her. His voice is kind, though, and Blaine’s glad to have him at his back. “You can tell us. It’s our job to take care of you, remember? We don’t keep secrets in this family.”

“I know.” She kicks her feet against the rung of the chair and then looks up into Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine makes himself keep strict control of his face; he can’t react, no matter how hurtful whatever she says is to him. He can let loose with Kurt later - cry or rage or hold on through the tempest; whatever they both feel they can do it together - but he can’t let her see even an iota of his heart-wrenching pain that something that’s so full of love for him and one of the fundamental truths of his life could hurt his darling girl.

Audrey kicks her feet a little more. “It’s just... girls are better,” she says finally.

“What?” Blaine asks, not sure if he understands at all.

“I love you and Daddy, but girls are way better than boys, and I’m sad you’re stuck being boys.”

Blaine hears Kurt make a choked sound that Blaine is pretty sure is smothered laughter.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Blaine somehow manages to tell her, controlling his own grin that wants to burst out of him. That’s not at all what he expected, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or not that it’s another false alarm. Part of him just wants to get through the hard conversation once and for all.

“Yes, very sweet,” Kurt says. “We’re okay being boys, though. You don’t need to worry about us.”

“That’s only because you don’t know how awesome girls are,” Audrey says with a shrug and goes back to her cereal. “It was probably smart you didn’t marry one. Then you’d be sad, too.”

“I’m absolutely sure we would be,” Kurt replies, his voice so very dry and filled with barely hidden amusement.

Blaine stands up, his joints stiff with surprise. He feels like they dodged a bullet and yet still ended up taking a pie in the face.

Kurt’s eyes are bright with mirth as he watches Blaine over the rim of his mug while he takes a sip of his coffee. “We’re such disappointments to her,” he murmurs as Audrey hums to herself across the room.

“I’m glad you aren’t a girl,” Blaine tells him, leaning back against the counter beside him. His knees threaten to give out for a second, but he holds on.

“Mm,” Kurt agrees and curls his fingers over Blaine’s. “As much as our daughter might object.”

Blaine watches Audrey kick her feet in time to the song she’s humming, paying them no attention. “I didn’t think that was what she was going to object to,” he says quietly.

Kurt nods, some of the humor draining from his face. His mouth tightens; his eyes go flat. Blaine knows Kurt dreads that conversation even more than he does for the personal hurt he expects to come out of it. “Not yet.”

“Maybe not ever. The world’s changing, Kurt.”

Putting down his mug, Kurt says with a lightness Blaine is certain he doesn’t mean, “It’ll still come up someday.”

Blaine holds onto Kurt’s hand more tightly, feels the strength in those fingers he knows so well, feels them grip back the way they always do, and says, “We’ll be ready. Or not ready, but we’ll be okay.”

Kurt nods again and smiles, just a touch. “We’ll be okay.” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but it’s what they have to tell themselves. There isn’t any other choice. They’ll get through it, whatever Audrey might feel.

Blaine smiles back and turns his attention back to his beautiful, talented, ever-curious daughter. She looks up, yet another question in her eyes, and Blaine braces himself for what she might choose to say next. It really could be _anything_ , all before his first full cup of coffee.

“What does chewing up the scenery mean?” she asks. She reaches up to adjust the plaid bow in her hair, her favorite accessory of the week. “Aunt Rachel was talking about one of her people at work doing that. I thought we weren’t supposed to eat the furniture.”

Kurt chokes back another laugh, and Blaine resists the urge to cover his face and silently hopes that whenever hard topics come up he and Kurt will be together to handle them.

 

_six... going on sixteen_

“You can’t catch me!” Audrey yells over her shoulder toward Connor as she sprints away toward the far jungle gym in the playground. Connor and their friend Dylan both immediately chase after her, her laughter streaming out behind her like a trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow.

“That’s surprisingly effective,” Kurt says with an approving tilt of his head. He’s quite impressed, really. “I wonder why I never thought of daring a boy to chase _me_ when I was younger.”

Beside him on the park bench, Blaine takes a sip of his coffee. “Maybe you were waiting for the right boy,” he says.

“Maybe,” Kurt replies and smiles over at him. “It’s probably good I didn’t dare any of them. God knows what they would have done if they’d caught me. Thrown me into a dumpster or something.”

Blaine leans against Kurt’s shoulder, his eyes on Audrey as she runs along the edge of the grass, her long Hummel legs eating up the ground, her hair flowing like a banner. “I don’t think we have to worry about that with her. Look how fast she is. They’re never going to catch her.”

Kurt feels a flare of pride at the sight. She’s like Atalanta: strong, sure, swift, composed. She’s no shy wallflower, no awkward little child like he was but still filled with the same determination to be herself. “Mmm. But someday she’ll want to be caught.”

“I’m not ready for that,” Blaine says.

Flicking a hand out toward their daughter, who laughs at her pursuers and slows down just enough for them to draw close before she sprints off, fresh taunts spilling from her mouth, Kurt says, “I don’t think we’re going to have a choice about it.”

“I’m not ready,” Blaine insists, his voice turning a little hollow.

“It isn’t up to us, Blaine,” Kurt says. He looks away from Audrey to take in Blaine’s unhappy face. “But she is only six.”

Blaine nods, his eyes moving to follow their daughter as she runs and runs, leaping up over low balance beams and other obstacles as sure-footedly as Blaine ever did; they don’t even slow her down. “But look how fast the past six years have gone,” he says. “She’s going to be a teenager before we know it.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to get _some_ warning,” Kurt tells him gently, trying not to laugh, because when Blaine gets wound up this way over something so illogical there’s not much to do but listen for a while before he mocks him out of it. “A birthday or two, another foot of height...”

“Pretty soon she’s going to be going out on dates. With boys.”

“It could be girls,” Kurt says. “Don’t assume.”

“But it could be boys,” Blaine says. His voice goes low and filled with dire concern. “Teenage boys. I remember what teenage boys think about.” 

Kurt can’t hold in his snort of laughter. “I remember. I was one, too. We turned out all right.” Sure, they’d been stupid, had hurt each other, and had taken risks in the name of their need to get their hands on each other back when time and private space had been rare luxuries, but it had all had a happy ending. They’d ultimately made it through and into adulthood. “Besides, it’s not just teenage boys who have needs, you know. Girls do, too.”

Audrey bounds up the steps to the big wooden play structure, her friend Sarah joining her, and ducks into one of the turrets, the boys still chasing behind.

“You’re not helping,” Blaine tells him.

“I can’t believe we’re having this cliche of a conversation at all. Next you’re going to talk about buying a baseball bat so you can meet her dates at the door holding it when they come to pick her up.”

“Oh, god, what if they have a car.” Blaine’s hand shoots out to grab Kurt’s wrist. “Kurt, we can never move to the suburbs. Promise me we won’t move to the suburbs. Then her boyfriends won’t have cars. I remember what we used to do in cars.”

Kurt’s throat goes a little tight at the memory of his hot, gorgeous boyfriend beneath him in the cramped back seat, hands in new places and the windows steaming up around them; it feels so long ago. That kind of hasty desperation feels foreign now; they can take it for granted they’ll be together every night, and that’s been true for so long. He misses that level of passion, that feeling of needing to touch Blaine’s skin or else he’ll die, if he’s honest, even though this is so much better.

It’s hard to think of his own daughter feeling that way for her own significant other, and he feels a uncomfortable pang of understanding for his father’s struggles in talking to him about sex and love, because at some point that’s going to be him.

Audrey hurtles down the slide with a peal of laughter and collapses in a heap at the bottom with Sarah, the two of them giggling their way upright and wandering off toward the swings, the chase apparently forgotten.

It’s not time yet for the talk, but someday.

“I’m not ready for a boy-crazy teenager, Kurt,” Blaine says in all earnestness, clutching at his wrist.

Kurt puts his free hand over Blaine’s and says as reassuringly as he can, “She isn’t one.”

“But she will be,” Blaine insists.

“I know,” Kurt replies, holding his gaze. “But not yet. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. And we were boy-crazy teenagers, you know. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll outsmart her. And we’ll tell her everything we needed to hear, no holding back. We’ll make sure she’s as ready as she can be.”

The worry in Blaine’s eyes slowly drains away, leaving him sheepish. He ducks his head and then looks back up at Kurt from beneath his lashes. “I wasn’t boy-crazy,” he says softly. “I was _you_ -crazy. I still am.”

Kurt feels his smile start in his heart and bloom through him down to the tips of his toes and up onto his face. He turns his arm under Blaine’s hand so that they can thread their fingers together, a gesture that’s as comfortable as his oldest shoes and still as thrilling in a way as the first time they touched. “There’s just something about you, Blaine Anderson-Hummel,” he replies with a happy shake of his head.

“Something good, I hope,” Blaine says, his eyes crinkling and his face lighting up, all joy and life the way he always is.

Kurt leans into him, shoulder to shoulder, his heart impossibly full of him, and says, “Something perfect.” Maybe that passion isn’t gone for good after all, he thinks, because it’s going to be hard to have to wait until Audrey’s in bed to get to kiss him the way he’d really like to right now.

But he can wait. He knows how to wait. And it’ll be worth it.

“Good,” Blaine says smugly, raising their joined hands to his lips to brush his mouth across Kurt’s knuckles before looking back over the park toward Audrey.

She’s swinging up toward the sky, her legs pumping and her hair being blown by the wind, and as so often happens when he looks at her Kurt can’t help but wonder who she is going to grow into. Will she be as independent and strong-willed as he is? Will she be as free with her kind heart as Blaine is? She’s so much a combination of both of them, but how will she be something entirely her own?

Will she be stubborn? Will she worry too much about what others think of her? Will she reach for her own goals with the passion they both reach for theirs? Will she guard her heart or fall in love too easily? Will she listen to their warnings or always think she knows best, even when it means she falls on her face?

Kurt takes a deep, satisfied, excited breath, squeezes Blaine’s hand, and watches their daughter fly.

He doesn’t know who Audrey will become and what she will do. He can’t. He hopes she finds passion in her work, he hopes she finds love in her life, he hopes she’s even happier than he is, but he can’t know any of that, not yet.

All he knows is that parenting her through it will be a blessing and a challenge, impossibly easy and terribly difficult all at once.

And it’s going to be incredible to see it all with Blaine by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free!


End file.
